


Lest Anybody Spy the Blood

by Elliott_Fletcher



Series: And Then He'd Go Back to Sleep [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Marauders' Era, Studying Not Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elliott_Fletcher/pseuds/Elliott_Fletcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(And he never can deny Sirius what he wants.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lest Anybody Spy the Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackcricket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcricket/gifts).



"So . . . _OWLS_ . . . " Says Sirius, slow, the gears in his head turning, his mouth still moving once the words have left his lips. 

"Yes, _OWLS_." Agrees Remus, but his eyes still hold reluctance, and he glances at the peaks of Sirius countenance; the easy brow, groomed; the abrupt cheekbones; and the crooked eye-teeth shown beneath his bitten lips. Remus feels heat in his cheeks, and he covers them with sticky palms lest anybody spy the blood. 

They settle their books on the mattress, legs and hips as one, tangled helplessly, papers strewn and hair astray. They brandish their quills and manage to save the ink from spilling 'cross the sheets, and then they attempt work, forearms brushing, elbows knocking. 

Remus is startled from his haze of disfocus by the creeping of a tingling finger. It edges up his wrist until all he can feel is its touch, and then it's on his face, the peppering of kisses on his cheek starting at his breath. His throat hitches, and Sirius leans into his shoulder, quill gone, his lips there, ever present. Too close, so warm, and he still pressures his wet mouth on the fleshy skin, clammy now from the affection. 

"Sirius, _OWLS_." Remus mutters, but it takes all his willpower. 

_(And he never can deny Sirius what he wants.)_

Sirius sucks on his skin, and then Remus can't keep himself away, so he turns his head slowly until those kisses trail to his mouth, ever waiting, patient, pleased at the felt-lips brushing against them. It's a hand on each neck, easing, ponderous, that keeps them locked at the lips, and Remus's nose twitches but doesn't sneeze, and he breathes heavily the scent of Sirius skin and sweat. _Sirius, OWLS_. A smile, warm, with just the right amount of teeth, and then another made of fleshy lips, and Sirius stares hard and grey. 

"No."


End file.
